


Fairy Tales and Wishes

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Mentions of character death, grief, and self harm.<br/>Prompt: ~96: Blood<br/>Summary: For some reason, it bothers him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy Tales and Wishes

Fairy tales. George stared at the book on his niece's shelf; a tome of stories with morals and happy endings, for the most part. They were the same stories that his mother had tried and failed to get him to sit still and listen to when he was a young child. He had always wriggled away; better to play with Fred than sit and pay attention to a story which didn't have excitement, or explosions.  
  
They'd always loved explosions. It was ironic that Fred had met his death in one, George knew. He narrowed his eyes as he dragged them along the titles on the dust-free shelf, thinking how the explosion had been missing one thing: blood.  
  
Fred's body had been utterly clean when he had died, perhaps a little dusty, unlike the shelves, but there was no pooling blood, no proof of his life force slipping away. Fred had simply gone, with no evidence as to why he had left. No stain on the floor. Almost as if he had never been there.  
  
As had become his way, George wrapped his arms tightly around his torso and hugged himself. There had been blood afterwards, but it had been his own. Blood flowing from the cuts he had made on his own body, from his knuckles as he punched the wall in their flat, unable to keep back the grief, unable to cope with the loneliness coursing through him.  
  
He had moved on since then. But the lack of blood involved in his brother's death still troubled him, even though he was magical, and he had known since a very young age that blood didn't mean death; blood was not necessary in their world to mean the catastrophic ending of a life.  
  
That he was seeking refuge in his one-year-old niece's bedroom said it all to George. He turned away from the books and the stories of his youth, wishing he was three again, and that he could choose to pay attention to the words as they fell from his mother's mouth.


End file.
